


Dressed in Diamonds

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Bottom Armitage Hux, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Fluff, Kinbaku, Kink Negotiation, Light Angst, M/M, Rimming, Shibari, Spanking, soft dom Mitaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Dopheld Mitaka, perpetually single, is set up on a blind date with his workmate’s older brother. All he hopes is that maybe this time he won’t scare some guy off. But on their double-date, when Techie and his fiancé Matt make jokes about Mitaka’s interest in kink, Mitaka discovers that maybe Armitage is a good match for him after all.For Dopheld Mitaka Christmas in July 2020
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Dopheld Mitaka
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: Dopheld Mitaka Christmas In July 2020





	Dressed in Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BanSW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanSW/gifts).



Mitaka’s worried. He’s often worried, so he’s not worried about _being worried,_ but he has been sitting in this restaurant for twenty minutes trying to ignore his friend Techie’s worried glances at him, and Techie’s fiancé Matt’s worried glances at the door.

“He’ll be here, I promise.” Techie checks his phone for the twentieth time. “He’s usually a real asshole about punctuality.”  
Matt nudges him and quietly says, “Babe.”  
“Not in a bad way,” Techie adds waving a hand as if to dispel the insult. “I mean he’s very considerate of other people’s time.”

Mitaka sighs deeply. “If he’s stood me up I just want to know about it so that I can order food to go and maybe a bottle of wine and spend the evening watching the Fab Five turn some _other_ sap’s life around. I can cry happy tears into my _Mighty Meaty_ in the knowledge that I, too, deserve love and attention.” He checks his watch again. “And pizza. Look, should we just call this off?”

Techie taps his phone, holds it to his ear and scowls at the wipe-clean menu. “Where the fuck in the motherfucking universe fucking are you?” He nods once, rolls his eyes and shakes his head at Mitaka. “He’s on his way. Says he’s sorry.” Techie frowns at the menu again. “Uh-huh? Okay.” He ends the call. “Armie wants the _Meatball Marinara._ Let’s order.”

The pizzas arrive mere seconds before a tall, pink-faced redhead reaches their table, pulls off a woollen raincoat and folds it onto the booth seat, then folds himself into the booth seat too.  
“Armie,” Techie says. “This is Dopheld Mitaka. Doph, this is my big brother Armitage.”  
The redhead smiles at Mitaka and offers a handshake. He has a firm, dry grip although his fingers are cold. He’s wearing a suit that seems far too fancy for the family-friendly decor of the chain pizzeria Matt chose for the double date.  
“Hi,” Mitaka says. “Nice of you to make it. I mean, nice to meet you.”  
Armitage winces. “I’m so sorry I’m late. My prick of a boss called a meeting at ten to six and I had to be there.”

Too thoroughly silenced by embarrassment to apologise for his snarky comment, Mitaka basks in Armitage’s beautiful smile and reflects it back, incapable of remaining annoyed with someone as good looking as Techie’s brother. He steals furtive glances at one then the other while he eats. They have identical bone structure and colouring, but where Techie sits round-shouldered and lets his hair hang forwards, Armitage sits up straight and has carefully cut and styled hair with a few strands only just beginning to work loose. Techie’s features seem softer, less focused, but that may be down to his inability to stay still for long. It could be the lighting, but Techie’s eyes are a little more blue than Armitage’s, which are—

“So, Dopheld.” Mitaka realises with a start that Armitage has caught him staring. “You work with Will and Matt.”  
“Yes,” Mitaka replies. “I do sales and bookings in the office while they get to go out and fix stuff. It’s really dull. You?”  
“Admin and finance, mostly.” Armitage laughs. “So let’s not talk about work. Do you have any interesting hobbies?”  
Mitaka sees the matching grins on Matt’s and Techie’s faces. He glares at them both. “Oh,” he says, reaching for a fresh slice of pizza. “Just the usual stuff, I expect.”  
Armitage nods but his smile loses a little of its sparkle.

They eat in silence for half a minute, then Matt laughs when Techie elbows him. “I know how to liven this up,” Matt says with bright glee. “Let’s play Top Three. I say top three and a category, and whatever category it is you have to tell me your three favourites. Okay. Top three movies. Doph?”  
“Ah...” Dopheld takes a bite of pizza to delay answering.  
“Stop stalling.” Techie grabs Mitaka’s wrist, takes the pizza from Mitaka’s hand and holds it out of reach. “Don’t think, just answer.”  
“I’m having trouble thinking of any three films at all now that you’ve put me on the spot!” Mitaka reaches for Techie’s hand, and reclaims his pizza.

“I’ll go first then,” Armitage says. “In no particular order: Black Panther, Thor and Superman with Christopher Reeve.”  
“You like superheroes?” Mitaka gets his pizza back and takes a bite.  
“I have a thing for handsome and strong but kind men.” Mitaka’s jaw stops chewing and he almost coughs when Armitage adds, “and I like the idea of being with someone who’s strong enough to hold me down but won’t hurt me.”

“Doph?” Techie says with a grin. “Your three? I’m guessing Exit to Eden, Preaching to the Perverted, and Fifty sh—”  
“Don’t you dare say the name of that travesty!” Mitaka blurts, sure his cheeks must be flaming red by now. “All right. I’m into kink. As long as it is safe, sane and consensual. So what?” He scowls at Techie. “Have you had enough fun embarrassing me yet?”  
“Shut up, Will.” Armitage’s leg jerks under the table and Techie flinches. Armitage half-turns to Mitaka. “Sorry my little brother is such an arsehole.”  
“Yeah,” Matt adds. “He needs a good spanking.”  
Armitage laughs and Techie splutters his drink.

The conversation drifts on to forgettable topics. Mitaka can’t help stealing glances at Armitage and wondering _exactly_ what he meant by his comment about having a thing for strong men. He purses his lips and thinks about his own physique: toned rather than muscular, stronger than he looks, kind of average. Is Armitage disappointed that his brother and almost-brother-in-law have set him up with someone like him? Is Armitage sitting there making painful smalltalk and wishing for the meal to be over so that he can leave?

But when he catches Armitage looking at him, there’s more curiosity than disappointment in his face. Mitaka smiles, and when Armitage smiles back it feels like the sun came out.

Conversation is easier when they stick to films, books and TV shows. Armitage has a sense of humour as dry as the Kalahari, laughs at Mitaka’s bad puns, and by the time Matt is asking for a box for the leftovers, Mitaka realises he’s been having a good time.

“So Matt and I are going now,” Techie says as soon as the card reader beeps at his Amex. “See you, Doph.” On his way out, he leans close to Mitaka, pats his shoulder and whispers, _“Take control.”_  
Surprisingly, from Mitaka’s point of view, Armitage isn’t getting up and putting his coat on. He fixes a smile on his face and hopes he doesn’t look too much like a hopeful puppy. “Do you want to go on somewhere else? For drinks, maybe? With me?”  
Armitage’s face lights up and he nods.

Mitaka leads Armitage out of the restaurant and along the street to a basement cocktail bar he knows. They pause for security at the door. “You’re not put off by what I said earlier?”  
“What do you mean?” Armitage asks.  
“About being into kink. Some people think it’s weird.”  
His heart lurches hopefully when Armitage shrugs and says, “Not in the slightest.”

Mitaka tells Armitage to find a table, or a couple of seats they can pull together, or at least a space big enough for them both to stand. He watches their midweek special happy-hour Martinis being made and pays for them, then carries them carefully over to where Armitage has bagged a section of bench just big enough for them to squeeze into without getting too intimate with the people on either side.

“Thanks,” Armitage yells over the music. He takes the olive out of his drink and nibbles it off its wooden spear. Mitaka looks at his drink, picks out the olive, and raises his eyebrow at Armitage. Armitage laughs and leans over to capture it between his teeth. When Armitage sits back again, Mitaka slides his arm along the top of the padded backrest of the bench, thinking that if Armitage is uncomfortable with it, he can always claim that it was only a way to make more space for his shoulders.

Armitage leans in. Despite sitting so close that their thighs rub together, conversation is almost impossible and Mitaka stops trying after a few false starts. When they finish their drinks, Mitaka stands and holds out his hand. Armitage takes it. Mitaka pulls him closer, half a step away from their seats, which immediately fill with another two people.  
“Let’s go,” Mitaka yells, pointing at the green exit sign. Armitage rolls his eyes and nods.

Outside, it is blessedly cool and quiet. Mitaka’s ears are already ringing a little from the clamour of the bar. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would be so busy on a Tuesday. Do you want to try another bar?”  
“Not really.” Armitage shakes his head.  
Mitaka pulls his lips into a tight smile. “Okay then.” He blinks a few times and steels himself for disappointment. Techie’s handsome brother is clearly way out of his league. “I suppose if you’re into superheroes I might be a bit of a let-down.”

Armitage looks at him with surprise. “It’s not that at all. I need an early night because I’m exhausted. I told Will tonight was a bad idea but he set it up anyway.”  
“Oh!” Mitaka sucks his lower lip for a second. “I suppose I’m expecting rejection because you’re so gorgeous you could probably go back into that bar and just... pick someone.”  
Armitage laughs and shakes his head. “Look at the evidence. I’m so single I needed my happily engaged little brother to set me up on a blind date. If you asked me back to your place I’d probably say yes, although I’m not fit for anything strenuous and I’ll want breakfast at seven, not a taxi at midnight.”

_Strenuous?_

Mitaka is dumbfounded for an instant, then recovers. “Would you like to come back to my place? It’s not far.” Armitage tilts his head and taps his chin as if thinking about it. Mitaka waggles his eyebrows. “I can make pancakes.”  
Armitage laughs once. “That settles it. Yes, I would.”

Mitaka would normally walk but since Armitage has said he’s tired he leads the way to the nearest taxi rank and they are soon plodding up the staircase to Mitaka’s flat. He walks across the little hallway into the living room, shedding his coat.  
“Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything?”

He turns to find Armitage still in the hallway, studying the clip-framed pictures on the walls. “These are beautiful!”  
Armitage points to one. It’s a monochrome photograph of a tree woven from rope, suspended out of frame, weighted with stones to stretch out the fan of its branches. At the heart of the tree, enmeshed by (or perhaps forming part of) the trunk and lower branches, is a nude model.  
“It’s a powerful image. Strong like the tree, but helpless.” Armitage glances at Mitaka then back to the photograph. “It’s kind of erotic. Not what I expected to see as soon as I walked through the front door.”

“You like it?” Mitaka indicates the bedroom door with a tilt of his head. “My favourite one is in there.”  
Armitage hesitates, then asks, “Can I go look?”  
“Be my guest.” Mitaka takes Armitage’s coat and suit jacket from him to hang them from the rack on the other wall.

Armitage goes into Mitaka’s bedroom and Mitaka offers silent thanks that he changed the sheets on Sunday instead of leaving it another week. He fills two glasses with chilled water from the dispenser in the fridge and joins Armitage, standing awestruck in front of a large, framed poster of two nude models, contorted and woven with black and pale grey ropes into the shapes of a spider and a moth caught in a web, frozen in place as if reaching for each other yet frustratingly unable to touch.

“Last time I brought someone back here, he said this was creepy and asked me to take it down.”  
Mitaka hands Armitage a glass and perches on the edge of his bed, one hand gripping the cool black iron rail of the footboard. “He said it was cockblocking him. What do you think?”  
“It’s certainly very striking.” Armitage takes a sip of water, then another. “The models are held in very... very...”  
“Vulnerable positions?” Mitaka feels the trickle of the condensation on the outside of his glass against his fingers and the drip of cold soaking through the fabric of his trousers onto his knee.  
“Yes.” Armitage takes another drink. “I envy them and I’m afraid for them all at once.”

Armitage finishes his water. Mitaka takes the glass from him. “Rope bondage like this is rooted in trust. The models have to let themselves be, well, vulnerable.”  
“They certainly seem to be enjoying it.” Armitage points to the pale shape of the erect penis of the model in the web.  
Mitaka laughs. “That’s the point. Some people find it liberating to be vulnerable. To be relieved of any control over what happens when their movements are restricted like this. The models would have had lengthy and detailed discussions with the artist and the photographer before completing a checklist and agreeing a contract.”  
“There’s paperwork?”  
“Yes. If you’re... if someone wanted to take part in rope bondage, there have to be strict agreements about what is and is not going to happen. And about what they’ll do and say if they’re the wrong kind of uncomfortable or if they change their mind, and about how their rigger or their dom will treat them before, during and after. And a medical form and a risk analysis because things can go wrong.”

“I had no idea it was so complicated.” Armitage steps back to take in the overall effect of the picture. “I can see why you keep this one in your bedroom.”  
Mitaka smiles when he notices the bulge in Armitage’s trousers. He puts the two empty glasses down and slides his hands around Armitage’s waist. “It’s not complicated. Not really. And I see you like the artwork as much as I do. That’s convenient.”

Armitage smiles, then holds Mitaka’s face and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. Mitaka responds by running his open hands up Armitage’s back to his shoulders and down again to his waistband, then sliding his right hand to the front and unfastening Armitage’s belt. Armitage slides his belt free of its loops and holds it up. “What if I wanted you to tie me up tonight?”

“No.” Mitaka feels Armitage’s shoulders sag. He murmurs in Armitage’s ear, “I don’t get kinky until the third date. Let’s just get familiar with each other for now.”  
Armitage drops his belt. “So what do you like when you’re not tying someone up? I bet you could fuck me all ways into the middle of next week. I bet you’re insatiable.”

“Ah.”

Insecurity leeches the heat from Mitaka’s ardour. What if Armitage has expectations he can’t meet? What if he demands something he’s not ready to give? Mitaka takes a step back. “It’s late and we’re both tired. Perhaps I should call you that taxi after all.”  
Eyebrows raised, lips parted, Armitage freezes for a couple of seconds. “What? Uh? What did I do?”  
“Nothing. I’m probably not what you’re looking for tonight. Maybe it’s best if—”  
“But we were hitting it off! Dopheld, what just happened?”

Armitage picks up his belt and threads it through the first loop, feeling around his side for the second. Mitaka sighs as he manages the tricky third loop at the back. “I’m not _insatiable._ I don’t want to lead you on then not deliver.”  
“Oh!” Armitage frowns at Mitaka while he fumbles his belt over the fourth loop a couple of times before sliding it through. “I don’t feel like I’m being led on. I mean, I asked if you would tie me up tonight and you said no. That’s about as un-led-on as I could expect.”  
“It wasn’t just that. It’s my fault too.” Mitaka taps at his phone. “I got you an Uber. If you’re still interested, text me in the morning.”  
Armitage yawns and nods. “You’d better give me your number.”

When Mitaka wakes up, he is disappointed but unsurprised to see that there is no message waiting for him. That’s it, he thinks. A potentially nice prospect scared off by his odd behaviour. Again. Usually it’s the kink that scares them away, he muses in the shower, or their reaction is a little over keen and the red flags flutter. But he decided this time was entirely his fault. Armitage had been lovely. He was interested without being pushy, didn’t seem afraid to ask questions and didn’t pretend to be an expert, and he’s _gorgeous._ Mitaka spends a few pleasant minutes with his hand on his cock, imagining the way the black... no, the deep red cord would look against Armitage’s pale skin, knotted in perfect diamonds across his torso, fish-netting his thighs, holding him immobile while he teased and touched and pleasured until Armitage couldn’t take any more and begged. He comes, and feels guilty. He can’t have this. He ruined it.

With a deep sigh, Mitaka gets out of the shower, dries himself, dresses, makes tea and checks his phone. He almost drops his cup.

 _Armitage 7.53am_  
Good morning. I want to forget about last night and start over. Meet me at Imperial Grinders 6pm tonight? I’ll be on time. Text me your coffee order.

He replies with _OK_  
Who would have thought two letters would make him buzz so much.

Armitage is as punctual as promised, sitting at a corner table with two mugs in front of him.  
“Hi.” Mitaka sits down and smiles across the table. “Your boss let you out on time?”  
Armitage beams back. “First Order Finance can do without me this evening. I’m glad you came.”  
“I’m glad you invited me.” Mitaka closes his eyes and sips his coffee. “I didn’t think you would.”  
“Well. It’s not every day you meet someone whose artistic tastes are so relevant to your own interests.”

Armitage pulls a brown envelope from his messenger bag. “I looked some things up,” he says quietly, leaning close, although the clattering and chattering of the café provides all the privacy they need. “And I printed out these. I hope I’m not being too forward.” He slides the envelope across the table. Mitaka peers inside and takes out two sets of papers. One, he sees, has questionnaires already filled in with ticks and crosses and small, neat, block capitals. The other has blanks of the same questionnaires. He slides the papers out and reads, glancing up at Armitage, smiling to reassure him that he has not overstepped some invisible boundary this time.

“These are the same questionnaires as I usually use,” Mitaka says, fishing around in his pockets for a pen. Armitage sets a cartridge pen in front of him. He writes his name at the top then reads and considers every question. Even though he has filled in this, or others like it, a dozen times now, he thinks about every answer because every potential partner is different.

He finishes his coffee, a little too cold now, at the same time as the questions, and slips the pages back into the envelope. He sits back and regards Armitage, who has been watching him the whole time. “We’ll need to meet up again to discuss these. And agree what the next step will be.”  
Armitage nods. “Will explained a few things to me. I called him when I got home last night.”  
Mitaka almost sprays his last gulp of coffee. “You discussed this with Techie?”  
“Yes,” Armitage says, voice pitched higher in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I? We’re brothers.”

Armitage clearly thinks this explains everything. Mitaka shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. He never mentioned it to me today at work so I suppose there’s no harm done.”  
“Oh!” Armitage laughs. “I’m glad. I did say I would actually shank him if he said anything. If you’re free, why don’t we get takeaway and go back to your place and discuss it there?”

Mitaka agrees, and soon they are sitting at his kitchen table with Chinese food, a bottle of white wine and their questionnaires. Confident in his own space, Mitaka asks most of the questions, teasing out from Armitage the details of things he’s sure he wants, suggesting ideas for scenes he might like, and reinforcing their hard limits. As he watches Armitage’s mood shift from reticent embarrassment to open comprehension to joyful anticipation, he feels his own mood lighten too. Maybe this is right. Perhaps, despite Armitage’s initial misconception that Mitaka is some kind of sex-crazed beast—now corrected—they might be a good match for each other.

The food is eventually all eaten and the wine all drunk and it’s ten p.m. on a work night. Mitaka catches Armitage stifling a yawn. “You can stay over as long as you keep your expectations low.” He gets up and stacks the empty containers. “By which I mean a movie then sleep. Or I can call you an Uber.”  
Armitage flashes him a smile. “Will you still make me pancakes for breakfast?”

Mitaka laughs and nods. He lets Armitage choose a movie and they settle on the sofa to watch, with one more glass of wine each and an insincere promise that they will definitely leave the remaining half of the second bottle in the fridge for another night. Armitage sits close so Mitaka slips his arm around Armitage’s back, then sweeps his red-gold hair, loose tonight, back from his face. Armitage catches Mitaka’s hand and kisses the palm and the inside of his wrist, then rests his head on Mitaka’s shoulder. Mitaka kisses Armitage’s hair then forces his attention back to the film.

After a few minutes more, Armitage sets his hand on Mitaka’s knee and squeezes at a tense moment on screen. Mitaka strokes his free hand up Armitage’s arm to his shoulder, and in a heartbeat they are kissing. Film forgotten, Mitaka gently presses Armitage backwards to recline on the sofa and lies on top, eyes closed, lost in the taste and the scent and the feel of the man beneath him.

Armitage’s hands move from where they have been roving up and down his back, cool under his shirt, to his backside, pulling their hips tighter together, the unmistakeable lump of Armitage’s hard cock matching his own.  
“I want you.” Armitage’s voice is barely a breath. “I want you to take me to bed and tie me up and tease me until I can’t stand it. I want—”

It’s so tempting to have this beautiful creature spread-eagled and begging for him that Mitaka thinks he might cave in and offer to get the comfortable leather cuffs and satin blindfolds out from the box under his bed. But he’s disciplined enough, despite almost a whole bottle of wine having lowered his inhibitions, to know that he should not.

“I will, I promise.” Mitaka ruts against Armitage’s hardness, biting his own lip to stifle a groan at the hot, heavy tingle in his groin. “But not tonight.”  
“When?” Armitage breathes between hot, sucking kisses.  
Mitaka thinks he’s going to burst. He rolls off and lands in an undignified heap on the floor, then gets to his knees, unfastens Armitage’s belt and trousers, glances up for a nod of permission, and slips his hand inside.  
“Wait,” Armitage laughs and pulls Mitaka’s hand away. “I have to wear these to work tomorrow.”  
“Let’s go to bed, then.” Mitaka stands, grinning, and offers Armitage a hand to pull him up. “We can make plans in the morning.”

Armitage takes Mitaka’s hand and allows himself to be led to the bedroom, undressed and put to bed. Mitaka follows and they giggle their goodnights then resume their kissing and touching until Mitaka tells Armitage to turn onto his side, reaches over to clasp Armitage’s cock, and presses his own erection up along the cleft of Armitage’s buttocks. He thrusts gently twice and Armitage grinds back, giving him just enough friction and pressure to stay interested. Mitaka strokes Armitage’s cock slowly at first, then faster and harder when Armitage’s breathing becomes heavier. Armitage’s body stiffens and he comes with a ragged moan.

Smiling, Mitaka wipes his hand on the sheet then kisses the back of Armitage’s shoulder. Armitage mumbles something. Mitaka pushes himself up onto his elbow to look at Armitage’s face. With a disbelieving laugh, Mitaka realises that Armitage is already asleep. He takes care of his own arousal in the bathroom, gets a spare toothbrush and towel out for Armitage to use in the morning, then goes back to bed to fall asleep imagining how Armitage will look and sound crisscrossed with wine-red rope, blindfolded and maybe gagged, free to fantasise safely that he is the helpless plaything of a stranger.

In the morning, Mitaka makes good on his promise of pancakes and Armitage apologises for falling asleep. They agree on arrangements for what Armitage calls their ‘kinky third date’, then Armitage leaves for work after a coffee and maple syrup flavoured kiss. They have agreed on Saturday, late afternoon so that they can play out the scene and dissect it afterwards. It’s only two days away but Mitaka can hardly wait.

He’s prepared ten times over by the time Saturday arrives. A few lengths of clean, soft cord lie coiled on his pristine bedding, beside a strip of jewel-coloured condoms, a pink glass butt plug with its end shaped like a rose, a set of vibrating anal beads, and a bottle of lube. There’s a clean towel on a wooden dining chair in the corner, and a new robe hanging on the back of the door. In the drawer he has sharp safety scissors to cut the ropes, massage oil and wipes, and in the kitchen he has soft drinks, herbal teas and comfort snacks. At half past four, he puts on his good suit and styles his hair, all for the illusion.

Armitage will be waiting.

It’s not cold but he turns the radiator on at its lowest setting then calls an Uber to take him into town. Security is a bit tighter at the cocktail bar. He consents to a sweep of the metal detector wand and a pat-down after explaining that the item in his pocket is “just a joke gift for a friend I’m meeting later” but he’s wearing a suit and doesn’t look like part of a stag party so he’s allowed to keep it. Downstairs, he sees Armitage sitting facing the door, at a table with a glass of water. A tall, dark-haired man slides into the seat opposite him. Mitaka raises his eyebrows, but Armitage just blinks at him, slowly like a cat, and frowns at the interloper.

Mitaka orders two tall cocktails, waits for them while watching Armitage’s defensive body language at his new friend, then walks over with a sweating glass in each hand.  
“Excuse me, you’re in my seat.”  
The interloper looks up, takes in the sight of Mitaka doing his best to look intimidating, smirks and stands up. He’s huge and has a fearsome scar running up his cheek and through his eyebrow.  
“And you are?”

Mitaka feels his pulse speed up and his stomach clench.

_Take control._

“I’m the guy taking him home with me tonight,” he says with a smile that he hopes shows confidence, setting the drinks on the table. “And you are?”  
“Hmph.” The man steps a bit too close for comfort for a second then deliberately shoulders Mitaka on the way past. Mitaka sits down.  
“So what’s a cute fellow like you doing out on your own?” He pushes a drink across the table. “You might run into the wrong sort.”  
“You’re not wrong,” Armitage says, taking a sip of his drink. “That prick was my boss.”  
Mitaka’s anxiety rises and he tenses, dropping out of character, ready to stand up again. “Oh fuck, did I—”  
“It’s all green, Doph,” Armitage says with a grin. “Fucking bright, grassy green.”

Mitaka smiles in relief then slips back into character. “So tell me, just what is a beautiful creature like you doing in a dive like this?”  
Armitage raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m waiting for a nice man to take me somewhere nicer.”  
“Oh?” Mitaka suppresses a smile. “And where would you like to be taken? My bedroom is nice. I could take you there.”  
“I don’t know. I only like nice men.” Armitage sips his drink and puts the glass down, leaving his hands resting on the table. He gives Mitaka another coy smile. “Are you a nice man?”  
Mitaka takes one of Armitage’s hands in both of his, stroking the back with his thumbs. “Tell me your name.”  
“Armie.”  
“Well then, Armie, why don’t you give me a chance to show you just how nice I can be?”

Mitaka gets up first and pulls Armitage’s chair back for him, then holds his coat while Armitage slides his arms into the armholes, and finally offers his arm. Armitage slips his hand through the space made by Mitaka’s elbow, and Mitaka leads him out of the bar and up to street level. Once there, Mitaka takes Armitage to the nearest taxi rank and holds the cab door open before sliding in beside him. Once moving, he takes Armitage’s hand and kisses his knuckles. Armitage bites his lip and looks out of the window. Mitaka squeezes his hand. “Are you okay, Armie?”  
Armitage turns and smiles at him. “Yes. Green.”

They get out and the driver pulls away happy with the generous tip Mitaka gave. Mitaka takes Armitage’s hand and leads him into the building and up to his floor. He manages his keys with one hand and in a moment they are in Mitaka’s hallway, in front of the photo that had captured Armitage’s interest only days before.  
“Now,” Mitaka says, easing Armitage’s coat off his shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack. “I have something special in mind for you. Would you like to know what it is?”  
“Yes,” Armitage replies, and Mitaka pulls out the handcuffs which have been burning a hole in his pocket all this time. He spins Armitage, pushes him against the wall, and clips the cuffs around his wrists behind his back.

“Armie?” Mitaka leans on Armitage, pressing him harder against the wall. “Are you going to be good for me?”  
“Yes.” Armitage’s eyes are closed and his jaw is slack. “Sir, yes.”  
“Well then. I am going to take you into my bedroom. I am going to tie you up with pretty knots and I am going to do whatever I want with you.” Mitaka leans harder still. “How does that make you feel?”  
Armitage rests his pink cheek on the pale, painted surface. “Green.”

Hooking two fingers around the chain of the cuffs, Mitaka leads Armitage backwards into the bedroom. He turns Armitage slowly to let him see the rope laid out for him.  
“I am going to undress you. You are going to stand still. If you move without permission, there will be repercussions.” Mitaka turns Armitage to face him. “Do you understand?”  
Armitage nods, once, slowly.  
“All right. This way.”

Mitaka steers Armitage to the foot of the bed and turns him around. He unfastens one of the cuffs and clips it around the ironwork of the footboard instead. Armitage has one free hand but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. He sweeps it though his hair and leaves it there, perched on top of his head.

“Arm by your side.” Armitage obeys, smiling, his eyes seeking out Mitaka’s. Mitaka frowns at him, afraid that the illusion will shatter with a single twitch of his lips. “I’m going to blindfold you,” Mitaka says. “You are not permitted to see how beautiful you are all tied up unless I decide to show you.”

Armitage stands still while Mitaka secures a soft fabric mask over his eyes. Mitaka pats Armitage’s cheek then trails his fingers down to Armitage’s shirt, popping the buttons open one by one and untucking it until the garment hangs loose from Armitage’s shoulders. Next, he unfastens Armitage’s belt and slowly slides it free of its loops, coiling it and placing it on the bed. He sees the skin on Armitage’s side prick up in to gooseflesh and he bends to draw his tongue across the tiny bumps while Armitage shivers in the warm room. After that, he kneels to untie Armitage’s shoelaces and pull his shoes off one at a time, pairing them under the bed. His socks are next, tucked inside his shoes, then Mitaka stands up.

“You are going to be beautiful,” he says quietly, slipping his own jacket and shoes off. “So beautiful.”  
Armitage sucks his lower lip between his teeth again and smiles.

Mitaka unfastens the button and zip of Armitage’s jeans and eases the coarse denim over his hips and down his thighs to his knees. He kneels again and, wordlessly, he lifts Armitage’s feet one at a time to pull the fabric free. He shakes the jeans out and folds them on top of Armitage’s belt. Armitage stands still, wearing only his shorts and shirt and blindfold, head bowed.

He stands up once more, strokes his hands through Armitage’s hair, down his cheeks, pausing at his neck then trailing down his chest to rest on his hips. He hooks both thumbs into the waistband of Armitage’s shorts and moves his hands back and forwards, working the elastic down over Armitage’s semi, sliding the garment as far as his knees then letting it fall. Armitage steps out of it without being instructed. Mitaka delivers one sharp slap to Armitage’s backside.

“What did I say about moving?” he demands.  
“Not to,” Armitage says. “Or there would be repercussions.”  
“And how do you feel about repercussions, Armie?”  
“Green, sir. Green.”

Mitaka smiles, gives one more smack then gently rubs the spot he’s slapped. Armitage is fully hard now, and Mitaka has to resist the temptation to touch. It’s not time yet. He slides Armitage’s shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. It falls from Armitage’s free arm and hangs from his cuffed wrist.

“All right. Let me look at you.” Mitaka steps back, hurriedly removes his own suit trousers and hangs them with his jacket, takes off his tie and unfastens his shirt. Then he uncoils two of his ropes together to make one double strand, and finds the centre, He ties two knots, one either side of the centre.

“I’m going to start weaving you into a restraint.”  
Armitage nods. Mitaka rests the rope behind Armitage’s neck and checks the knots lie symmetrically a little below Armitage’s collarbones.

“Look at you, standing still, being so good for me.” Mitaka separates the paired strands and ties another knot in the centre of Armitage’s chest using one strand from each pair. “Will you be a good boy if I unfasten your cuff?”  
“Yes, sir,” Armitage replies.  
“Very well. You must only move if I tell you. Understand?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“And what will happen if you disobey me?”  
“There will be repercussions, sir.”  
“Good boy.”

Mitaka uncuffs Armitage’s other wrist and picks up his shirt when it falls to the carpet. Armitage stands perfectly still, chewing his lip. “You may stretch if you need to,” Mitaka says, as he folds Armitage’s shirt and leaves it with the neat pile of clothing on the bed.

Armitage stretches his arms and shoulders then stands still, arms by his sides, waiting for instructions. Mitaka turns him this way, that way, arms up, arms down, knotting and weaving the cords until Armitage’s torso and hips are encased in a diamond lattice of rope that passes between his legs and frames his cock and balls beautifully. Mitaka takes Armitage’s hand so that he can step back and admire his work without breaking contact.

“You’re so pretty like this.”  
“May I see?”  
“Not yet. I’m not finished with you.”

Mitaka takes another length of cord, loops it and uses it to secure Armitage’s wrists to his hips. He kneels in front of Armitage, resisting the temptation to tease his flagging erection back to full hardness with a lick and a kiss, and weaves more diamonds around Armitage’s right thigh. He mirrors his work on Armitage’s left thigh, then does the same to Armitage’s calves.

He looks up. Armitage’s cheeks are pinker. “You’re being such a good boy. How are you feeling?”  
“Green! Green.”  
Mitaka stands up and cradles Armitage’s face in his hands. “I’m not finished with you yet, but I think you deserve a reward. Would you like that?”  
“Yes, please. Sir.”

“Very well.” Mitaka keeps one hand on Armitage’s cheek. With the other, he reaches down and cups Armitage’s balls. Armitage takes a sharp breath in and smiles wide when Mitaka caresses the wrinkled skin of his sack and plays with the knotted cord behind it.  
“Mm, you like that?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Is that all you have to say?”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“That’s better.” Mitaka takes Armitage by the elbow. “Over here, two steps. I’m going to guide you to sit on the bed.”

Armitage lets himself be manoeuvred to sit on the bed. Mitaka moves the clothing to the floor and the lube and condoms and toys to the cabinet. He uses a few words and gentle pressure until Armitage is lying on his back. Mitaka bends Armitage’s knees and loops cord through the diamonds he has already woven so that Armitage’s legs are secured to his body cage.

Mitaka slips his fingers under the ropes here and there to check the tension then regards his work with satisfaction. Armitage is lying on his back with his legs held bent up and open, his cock and hole on display.  
“What a gorgeous thing you are,” Mitaka says, feeling an exciting tingle of arousal. “What a treat. I could eat you up.”  
Armitage lets out a sound halfway between a moan and a gasp, and he shifts his hips a little.  
“Would you like that?”  
“Sir!”  
“Well. Maybe if you’re very good.”

Mitaka removes his shorts, socks and shirt and kicks them out of the way.  
“I’m going to move you,” he says. “Don’t struggle.”  
He grasps the cord harness around Armitage’s hip and shoulder, uses it to swivel him through a quarter turn, then he grips the bedcover and slides the whole thing, Armitage included, closer to the edge of the bed. Now when he kneels on the carpet, knees spread and cock bobbing untouched, he can get his head level with Armitage’s entrance, right by the edge of the bed. He dips his head, flicks a pointed tongue along the seam from the knotted cord under Armitage’s balls to his hole, then sits back and blows air over it.

Armitage moans and squirms.  
“I said not to move, Armie.” Mitaka gets onto the bed and pulls sideways on Armitage’s shoulder and thigh harnesses to roll him onto his side, then onto his front. Armitage lies with his head down and his ass up.  
“Do you remember what I said about there being repercussions?”  
Armitage’s voice is muffled. “Yes, sir.”  
“And how do you feel about that?”  
“Green.”  
“All right. Count ten for me.”

With a flat hand, Mitaka lands a slap on Armitage’s left buttock and Armitage counts one. The second one lands on the right. Mitaka increases the force behind the next two, and the next two again. After Armitage lurches and yelps out _six!_ Mitaka pauses to massage the blooming skin of Armitage’s arse, stroking and kneading, teasing his thumb gently over the pink pucker and watching it twitch. The last four slaps are harder and faster, and Armitage all but shouts _TEN_ followed by, “Green, fuck me, please sir, green.”

“All in good time.” Mitaka strokes Armitage’s warm skin. “That’s what I brought my beautiful boy home for.” He leans in and pulls a flat tongue up Armitage’s taint, pulls back and blows again, revelling in the shuddering moan it pulls from Armitage. He dives in again, this time kissing around the pucker and wriggling the point of his tongue into the tight ring, pulling away when Armitage tries to thrust backwards.

“You’re helpless, aren’t you?” Mitaka rubs the pad of his thumb over Armitage’s spit-wet hole. “I could do anything to you. Anything I want. I could use anything on you, or leave you like this, waiting for me to fuck you. Couldn’t I?” Armitage groans and curses. Mitaka laughs. “I’m going to put a pretty plug in that.” He circles his thumb around Armitage’s hole. “And maybe I’ll want to play with it later.”

Mitaka opens the lube and pours some, cold, onto the top of Armitage’s crack, and watches it dribble down over his hole. Armitage gasps, tenses then relaxes as Mitaka massages the lube around his entrance, then tenses and relaxes again when Mitaka eases a finger inside. Mitaka adds more lube and thrusts his finger in and out. After a few seconds, Armitage moans in pleasure.  
“You like that? Do you like getting finger-fucked, Armie?”  
“Yes, sir, please, sir.”  
“You want me to fuck you with something bigger?”  
“Yes! Yes, sir, green, sir.”

Mitaka thrusts his finger in and out a few more times, then pulls out. He reaches for the pretty, pink glass plug and lubes it too, then eases the tapered end slowly into Armitage’s hole, drawing it out again a couple of times while Armitage quietly curses. His own erection is getting harder to ignore and for a moment he considers lubing himself up and using the vibrating beads for some quick relief. But instead, he touches his cock once, one quick stroke with his lubed hand that makes him shiver with the thought of more and the denial of it, then turns his attention back to Armitage. Perhaps he will conjure up this moment later, on his own, and play with his toys all he likes when Armitage has had enough.

Or perhaps, Mitaka thinks, perhaps this time he will take as well as give. They’ve agreed to it, if it feels right, although Mitaka has explained that he usually doesn’t fuck his sub like that, that he gets aroused without feeling like he particularly needs to act on his arousal, and often it’s not about the climax for him, it’s about the satisfaction of having made his sub happy.

But there’s something about Armitage that he likes, something different. He reaches for the condoms and lube. He still might not seek his own pleasure, but may as well be prepared.  
“I’m going to move you onto your back again,” he says, hauling on the rope harness with Armitage helping as best he can. When Armitage is settled, Mitaka holds the rose decoration of the plug between finger and thumb and slowly moves it around while he leans down and plays his lips and tongue over the nubs of Armitage’s nipples until Armitage squirms.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks.  
“Yes! Yes, sir!” Armitage almost shouts.  
“Oh, my dear, impatience won’t get you what you want!”  
“Please, sir,” Armitage rocks his hips up as much he can. “Please fuck me. I’ve been good. So good. I want you in me.”  
“You have been good, haven’t you?” Mitaka grins. “But you’re not quite ready for me yet.”

Armitage actually _whines._ Delighted, Mitaka sucks a wet kiss onto the base of Armitage’s cock then works his way up to the head, sucking and licking, while Armitage strains against his cords. He takes the head of Armitage’s cock into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, tasting salt, hearing Armitage curse and moan in futility. He’ll do it, he decides then. He’ll have this for himself. He sits back on his heels, eases the rose plug from Armitage’s ass, pours more lube, lines up his cock and pushes in.

It’s wonderful. It’s rare, but every time Mitaka allows himself to take pleasure like this he wonders why he doesn’t do it more often. Of course he’ll remember every detail later, regret it if Armitage isn’t happy with his performance, pick over every moment of memory for clues about what he sees as his inadequacy, but right this second he can’t imagine why he ever denies himself this. He sets a slow rhythm of deep thrusts, changing the angle of his hips until Armitage pants and gasps with every thrust. Then he speeds up, face warming, hot tingle in his groin growing and spreading, eyes fluttering closed. The sound of skin slapping on skin nearly makes him laugh and ruin the whole experience. He slows down again, bites his lip, forces himself to look at Armitage’s face, head thrown back and mouth open, lost in the moment.

He really is beautiful, Mitaka thinks, then speeds up again. When he’s on the point of losing control, Mitaka clasps Armitage’s cock and pumps it until Armitage comes, streaking the pretty diamond shaped cord harness with white spurts. At the sight, Mitaka lets himself go and feels that exciting, electric tingle he’s been chasing explode into white fire.

After he slips out, Mitaka eases himself up and forwards, and places a soft kiss onto Armitage’s lips.  
He deals with his own clean up quickly. “Hey,” he says, a hand on Armitage’s knee. “I’m going to clean you up and untie you. Okay? you want the blindfold off first?”  
“Not yet.”  
“All right.”

Mitaka carefully cuts through the restraints at Armitage’s wrists first, then the cord that secures his legs up and bent. He helps Armitage turn to lie fully on the bed on his side and unties his upper leg from its rope stocking, then turns him to untie the other side. He unties the body harness last, easing the cords out from their knots until he can slip it off over Armitage’s head, then puts a blanket over Armitage and lies beside him, pulling him into a loose hug.  
“You were amazing, Armitage. Wonderful. And so beautiful.”  
“Mmm.”  
“Would you like a massage? Or I can run you a warm bath.”  
“Mmmnnnodon’movestayhere.”  
Mitaka smiles and holds Armitage a little tighter. “Okay. I’ll stay here.”

It’s getting dark when Mitaka wakes up and he’s cold from lying on top of the covers. Armitage sighs when he moves to slip off the bed and stretch.  
“Sorry, did I wake you?”  
“No,” Armitage turns and smiles in the grey light. “I was waiting for you to wake up. Need to pee.”  
Mitaka laughs and gets off the bed. Armitage gets up and hobbles to the bathroom. Mitaka hears the shower start up, so he goes into the bathroom with the fresh towel and the robe.  
“You might need these.”  
“Thanks. Get in with me? I feel... I dunno. Odd. Clingy. Sorry.”

Mitaka gets into the shower enclosure beside Armitage. It’s a squash, but with a few bumps and giggles, they manage. After, they sit on Mitaka’s sofa with drinks and snacks, wearing robes and not-watching a TV show.  
“Can I stay tonight?” Armitage says.  
“Yes, I’d like that,” Mitaka replies.  
Armitage smiles and takes Mitaka’s hand. He kisses the palm and the inside of the wrist. “Will you,” he says with a grin, “make me pancakes in the morning?”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Dressed in Diamonds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121877) by [Orson_Bennett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orson_Bennett/pseuds/Orson_Bennett)




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